


Upside Down Mirror: Old Magic

by Yemi Hikari (Yemi_Hikari)



Series: Upside Down Mirror (All AUs) [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Autistic Regulus Black, Eventual Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Eventual Regulus Black/Luna Lovegood, Gen, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley Break Up, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2020, Not Epilogue Compliant, Regulus Black Lives, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27736684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yemi_Hikari/pseuds/Yemi%20Hikari
Summary: On May 2nd, 1998 Voldemort is defeated. On May 2nd, 1998 one Regulus Arcturus Black arrives at Grimmauld Place.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Regulus Black & Neville Longbottom, Regulus Black/Luna Lovegood
Series: Upside Down Mirror (All AUs) [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005192
Comments: 20
Kudos: 51
Collections: 23 emotions, Autistic Characters, Fuck Yeah Autistic Characters, Oops Upon a Time!





	1. Grimmauld

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [23emotions](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/23emotions) collection. 



> Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter. This is yet another alternative method for Regulus living which came about from reading a lot of other Regulus lives of which there were quite a few involving him time traveling to live, but this got stuck in my head, not to mention the fact I could actually have discussion of autism during the late 90s was something I couldn't pass up. Arcturus and Lucrettia are also alive in this. Tags will be added as the story grows.
> 
> Also, decided this one definitely fit the prompt for 23 Emotions when I started looking back through the prompts for said collection.

Nothing stirred in Grimmauld place except for the wispy cobwebs, which resulted from a breeze blowing through the entryway while the front door of the ancestral Black Family home lay on the floor, blasted inward by some overzealous Death Eaters in search of information regarding the Dark Lord’s enemies. Ensuing weather created even further damage to the already worn carpets and peeling wallpapers.

It was into this setting one Regulus Arcturus Black appeared quite unexpectedly with a loud crack, his small body landing with a resounding thud against the wooden door which in turn resulted in screaming emitting forth from Walburga Black’s portrait. For a moment, he lay there lifeless while dirty water began pooling around his small, soaking wet frame. Blood from various injuries mingled with the water, helping to make an even bigger mess of the entryway.

After a few seconds, his open mouth clamped shut while his eyes stirred wildly behind his closed eyelids, then Regulus’ body began twitching, his lungs aching for air. Instinctively a hand reached out, scratching, and pulling at the door in an attempt to pull himself up, but when Regulus did, he began couching and retching the dreaded water up, his entire body trembling as he did so. His eyes kept fluttering while he slowly found himself in a sitting position leaning over the palms of her hands.

Eventually, Regulus found himself breathing, taking in the fact he was alive despite the fact he shouldn’t be, yet as his vision cleared he found himself looking down the long hallway while Walburga continued yelling, her own voice yelling about the filth she hated much blending with the voices in Regulus’ head making him unable to tell the difference between the two, but he did know what he saw in the entranceway was his worst nightmare.

Leaning forwards slightly, letting his forehead go down so he might cover his ears he attempted to scream, yet only a strangled sound – to him utter silence – came out. “ _It’s my fault they’re dead. It’s my fault they’re dead. It’s my fault they’re all dead!”_

Instinctively, Regulus knew he couldn’t stay there and he stood up, staggering slightly, failing the first two times and succeeded the third, although he remained unsteady on his feet. He backed out of the house, slowly stepping down the steps of Grimmauld place before turning and following the railing to the right of the house, his hand gripping to the railing as guilt for getting his family killed now echoed as yet another regret in one of his hands.

As such, Regulus didn’t notice when the railing ended as did the sidewalk, but he did hear the screeching of tires as a car braked. His eyes blinked, taking in the two Muggles who got out of the car. “Are you alright, hun?”

“Of course the boy’s not alright. It looks like he’s been mauled by some kind of creature, a dog perhaps.” The man looked him in the eye and he adverted eye contact, swallowing in panic. “Was it a dog?”

“Poor thing’s in shock. Better call an ambulance and the police,” the woman said, although Regulus wasn’t sure _what_ that meant beyond the fact pulled out a cellphone which to him looked like a strange box which the man spoke into the box asking for an ambulance for some reason. He watched warily until two more of the strange metal contraptions showed up, but the flashing lights on top made him physically flinch. Two Muggles got out of the smaller contraption with matching uniforms while three Muggles came in the larger one, but one of them pulled out what looked like a portable cot from the back end.

Questions were asked. “Are you alright?”

He wanted to tell them someone already asked the question and that the answer was obvious, yet no words came out, but he’d managed to back himself up so he was against the last fenced area of Grimmauld allowing him to prop himself up.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Regulus couldn’t open his mouth to say anything so that right there was an answer, but then there were the laws ensuring magic remained secret along with the voices in his head telling him what a failure he was. His hand gripped one of the bars on the fence a little tighter.

“Look, kiddo, we’re just trying to help you out. Where are your parents?”

Regulus was definitely _not_ a child, but the mention of parents… he leaned up against the metal fence, hands lifting up to clap over his ears, but his eyes clamped shut in an attempt to prevent himself from crying in front of the Muggles. The voices in his head kept telling him the death of his family was in fact his fault, yet he heard through all of that the Muggles saying he didn’t want to hurt himself.

Which felt strange given the pain which racked his entire body, what with how the Infiri attempted tearing him apart along with the painful effects both mentally and physically caused by the potion he drunk. He kept his eyes closed, trying to block out extra stimuli, knowing his magic going off accidentally would do nobody any good, but his sudden inability to speak meant not being able to cast a spell to obliviate memories, let alone being able to apparate way.

Not that he could obliviate the memories of what was now seven Muggles, particularly with how weak he felt.

“Look, we need to treat your injuries and get you to a hospital.”

Regulus wasn’t sure _what_ happened next beyond the fact in the back of his mind he knew going to a Muggle hospital was a bad idea. His mother would kill him if she knew, Muggle hospitals couldn’t treat magical maladies, yet there was the guilt of being the reason his family was all dead. The voices in his head got really loud, though he did hear someone asking that he not hurt himself over and over again, which he didn’t understand the reason behind.

Eventually, the voices started quitting to a dull thud to the point he realized he was now on his back staring up at a bright light while a couple of Muggles looked down upon him, reminding him of a scary story Sirius once told him about Muggles abducting wards, but he also realized said Muggles cut away his clothing leaving him feeling highly exposed. One of the Muggles noticed his anxiety and squeezed told him yet again things would be okay, but escaping wasn’t an option, what with how he was strapped down. His ears – they didn’t like the loud noise which sounded very much like an alarm of some kind. He tried opening his mouth, only for the two to look at each other.

Wherever he was also moved, but when it stopped Regulus saw some doors opening up and whatever bed he found himself on being pulled out of the mobile room to the outside and into a much larger building.

“Patient appears to be fourteen and sixteen years of age,” someone said, along with mentions of being attacked by a dog, how he was found soaking wet and might have hypothermia, but there also seemed to be dehydration on his part. A clear mask was placed over his mouth, his mind objecting to them getting his age wrong and that, for a while was the last thing he remembered.

~

When Regulus woke up, the voices telling him it was his fault his family died were back, while the other voices weren’t; his mind still struggled with the fact his family, his parents were gone, but he, who wasn’t supposed to be, was actually alive. Glancing around, he found himself in a hospital room but knew it wasn’t a room at St. Mungos. The scratches from the Infiri were in fact bandaged up and something was attached to his arm which led up to some kind of bag. He still felt very thirsty.

Sitting up. His hand reached for the object, meaning to pull it from his arm when someone said, “don’t do that.”

He looked up and saw a man dressed in a white robe with a clipboard. Another person dressed in Muggle clothing was right behind him, carrying some items with them. Regulus opened his, mouth, but nothing came out.

“This here is a social worker.”

Which of course didn’t sound good in Regulus’ mind, his mouth clamping shut tightly, but he found himself pulling back, so his knees were against his chest and his hands over his ears, not paying attention to the fact he only wore a robe and slippers.

“So, the issue here is we don’t know anything about you,” the social worker spoke up. They took a trey attached to the bed and swung it around so it was in front of him, placing papers and some colored sticks in front of him, making him wonder if they wanted him to do some kind of magic tricks for them.

He would not perform magic tricks.

“Can you draw a picture for me?”

The question of course confused Regulus as he watched them warily, but he was sure that, despite the fact they did treat his injuries, that they’d not treated them properly. He frowned, unsure of _what_ he was supposed to draw a picture with.

“Here. Let me show you.” The woman picked up one of the colored sticks and drew a horribly awful flower on the piece of paper. Regulus' eyes widened in surprise, his hand reaching for the color stick, only to hesitate. “You’ve not seen a crayon before?”

Regulus of course shook his head, his child self really wanting to mess around with the colored sticks, mentally cursing the fact his mother would most definitely kill him for having done so, for also being the reason they were all dead.

“You have permission to use the crayons, so can you draw a picture for us?”

“ _Why?_ ” Shaking his head he pulled a piece of paper close to him, at first unsure of what to draw, but then the idea of what to draw popped into his head, one that felt childish, yet he couldn’t open his mouth to say the name he so desperately wanted to say, so he decided to draw the person again.

A rather well-drawn picture of Kreacher appeared beloved sour face and all. The person calling themselves a social worker hummed in amusement. “Well, you certainly have quite the imagination on you, don’t you.” She then asked. “Does your friend have a name?”

In amusement, Regulus wrote down one word. The doctor’s eyebrow lifted up. “So, the creature’s name is Kreacher?”

“Can you draw us a picture of your family perhaps?”

That of course made Regulus push the trey away, but he shook his head before going back to covering his ears, wanting the Muggles to go away.

“I don’t know if he’s been abused or…”

Regulus’ eyes blinked, realizing they were looking into whether he was some abused child. He pulled the trey back and on the paper, she drew the flower on, wrote the words, “no” then pushed it away again.

“Okay. Can you tell us where your parents…”

Regulus again went to cover his ears, not liking the voices which kept telling him it was his fault they were all dead, the memory of landing on top of the door which in his mind was obviously kicked in by the Death Eaters, though on a slight chance the ministry blew the door down; it was most likely Bella. The thought of his cousin made him squint his eyes closed. “I believe there might be some development issues, but we’d need to further evaluate.”

Regulus’ teeth gritted together, biting lightly at the tip of his tongue. In the back of his head, he _definitely_ knew what that meant.

  



	2. Hospital

“If you start eating, we may be able to remove that IV drip you don’t like.”

Regulus found himself looking at the food in front of him which looked completely abysmal in his opinion, but the food consisted of fried potato, something the Muggles were attempting to pass off as a meat substitute and a green substance in a cup which looked to be somewhere between a liquid and a solid, decorated with cut pieces of fruit to look like a smiling face.

“Come on. Most kids like their chips and nuggets, but what kid doesn’t like jelly?”

Regulus took a deep breath, tilting his head, his mind still feeling groggy from however many times they’d given him what they called a sedative. His hand reached for the cup with the green substance and picked it up, turning it over, watching said green substance defy gravity, but the fruit did not. A thought crossed his mind regarding _what_ the substance was and suddenly he slammed the cup down, attempting to demold the jelly.

“Hey. Don’t do that.”

This of course made his chest tighten, his silver eyes looking the woman who watched him in the eye while he slid down, chided from having done something he wasn’t supposed to, which started him remembering how much he’d messed up, how he’d failed the family, how their deaths were his fault. His hands reached up to twist in his dark locks of hair in an attempt to calm himself.

“Don’t do that. Look, if you don’t want the jelly in the cup, we’ll do this.” The woman in question took the spoon and scooped the jelly out instead of properly demolding it, letting it plot onto the plate where it touched the fried potatoes and the pieces of so-called-meet, something she called nuggets. His mouth pressed together as she looked at him, expectedly. She scooped some of the messed-up jelly onto a spoon. “Come on. Open up for the magic airplane.”

There was nothing magical about that spoon, and despite not having been able to get a word out since he crash-landed in the entrance of Grimmauld place, Regulus opened his mouth to protest the Muggle’s strange claim only for the spoon of ruined jelly to go into his mouth. Instinctively, he spit the jelly out, in the same manner, he might do to food not to his liking as a child which meant the food ended up where it definitely shouldn’t

“Oh, seriously.” The young woman let out a sigh, cleaning up the mess. “That was a bad thing to do.”

“ _Bad thing to do._ ” Regulus closed his eyes, his fingers tightening around his hair while he sucked in his breath. “ _That was a very, very bad thing to do. Very bad._ ” He let out a hum of agitation.

“Hey. Calm down.”

“Sorry!” Regulus’ eyes remained shut, as he rocked back and forth as the memory of his mother punishing him until he learned not to do that anymore played over and over in his head. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, Maman!”

“Please. Calm down, otherwise…” The Muggle in question reach for that button they always hit when they wanted to knock him out which meant he would need to start all over with his thought process when he came to.

“Excuse me, but we’ll handle this,” someone stated. “Obliviate.”

Hearing the familiar word made Regulus still, his voice silencing once again, the fear of Death Eaters having found him making him freeze, his breathing stopping still. It didn’t help that he felt feverish, likely due to the scratches from the Infiri not being properly treated, but the Muggles definitely sounded worried because of said fever. He listened to them carefully.

“Go make sure she didn’t signal anybody to come here, right? Obliviate their memory as per protocol and take her with you.”

Regulus worried his lip, the thought crossing his mind that Death Eaters, what he came to finally understand, wouldn’t worry about obliviating the memories of some Muggle. They’d kill them and let the ministry clean it up. Thoughts of ending up in Azkaban flooded his mind as well as the disgust from feeling he actually belonged in the Wizarding prison.

“That’s a rather nice House Elf.” The person in question sat down on the bed, but the man’s statement made him look up at the picture of Kreacher he drew with the crayons that the Muggle healers put up for him as it seemed to be one of the few things which calmed him. He tilted his head while the man simply sat there. The man let out a sigh, “You weren’t attacked by a dog, were you?”

Regulus’ eyes blinked, then glanced down at his hands. He wanted to say something, but the voice in the back of his head said he didn’t know who he could actually trust with the information.

“Let’s get started by getting you transferred to St. Mungos.”

A hand covered his eyes, gently closing them while Regulus felt some kind of magic begin its. When his eyes opened again, he found himself in a different hospital room, sitting up in a panic until he saw the picture, he drew of Kreacher fastened to the wall. He sat in the bed, his feet hanging down.

“Ah! No getting out of bed young man.”

“Sorry. Sorry, sorry. Maman, sorry.” Regulus started to curl up again which would have meant him ending up on the floor of St. Mungos if the woman hadn’t moved forward, lifting him up, a second quickly joining them to get him back into the bed. He found himself sitting in the bed, cross-legged and very likely not at all looking like a member of the House of Black should look while someone pulled out a potion and lifted it to his lips while he shook his head.

“It’s just a Calming Draught.”

In the back of his mind, he definitely didn’t want to drink any more of that potion, but somehow with the help of a third, the potion slipped down his throat before they leaned him back into the bed, pulling up the sheets.

As Regulus calmed, he noticed another patient watching, only to be ushered away while asking if he was alright. There was something annoyingly familiar about that person which Regulus couldn’t place as his eyes closed and he started relaxing just as the voices of a few others approaching. “I don’t understand why you didn’t have him brought up to my level, given the fact he’s obviously been attacked by something.”

“Yes, well, there’s a chance he may end up being a permanent resident, from what I’ve read of what the Muggles have observed of the boy, but I don’t think the only issue is him having been attacked by some creature. There’s likely other spell damage.”

“Fine. I’ll see to his care here. Goodness knows it wasn’t a Werewolf as we’ve not had a full moon yet.” The man came in, watching him carefully.

“Hello young man,” the other person, the one who found him in the Muggle hospital and put him into an enchanted sleep so they could transfer him smiled at him. “From the looks of it, you’re coming down from another episode. They can’t be good for you, but I can’t pretend I know what’s going on in that head of yours. St. Mungo’s is a safe place.”

Except, he didn’t _belong_ here, with innocents he’d help harm, albeit indirectly as Voldemort had other uses for him. Without batting an eyelid, he pointed at the inside of his left arm.

The man noticed. “We’re quite aware of the mark on your arm, but you needn’t worry. We know you’re both underage and of limited mental capacity.”

Regulus shook his head as neither of these things were right.

The man pulled up a chair, pulling out papers and crayons while one of the others, the woman who observed him waking up, adjusted the bed so he was in a sitting position while the other man stood with his hands in his pockets. “So, we really need to, if it is at all possible to know what it is that attacked you and anything else that was done to you.” The man nodded and everyone but the healer he brought with him left. He tapped the paper. “Since you like crayons, can you write what it was that attacked you and anything else you can tell me?”

Regulus looked at the paper, opening his mouth.

“If this is the way you’re able to communicate, then that’s okay. It…”

Regulus picked up one of the crayons and wrote down two words, potion, and Infiri. The man frowned, showing the paper to the other doctor who let out a sigh. “Well, I can begin treating for that.”

“But it might not be.”

The crayon broke in Regulus' hand a sound of frustration escaping his mouth. He hated how words didn’t want to come to his mouth, that every time he opened his mouth to speak instinct instead made him want to let out a strangled cry while his mind remained focused on the fact he killed his family. The other man lifted his head. “How about this? Can you tell us your name?”

Regulus let out a sigh, writing his name down, carefully lining out each letter. The men pulled the paper over, then looked at each other. “You must be confused.”

His eyes blinked, confused why the men were saying he was confused.”

“See. You can’t be this member of the Black family as he’s dead. Has been dead for some time.”

Regulus shook his head, his mouth opening, wanting to tell them he wasn’t lying, but instead, he found no words came out of his mouth, only a sound of definite frustration as he yet again gripped his head with his hands. He heard the healers say something about how it made sense for him to be confused regarding who he was to which Regulus responded by lying down or trying to given the fact the bed was set at a slight angle but attempted pulling the hospital sheets over his head so he could hide from them.

They got the message he wanted to be left alone, but the bed was lowered so he could rest. He didn’t pull the cover away until the footsteps left which in turn resulted in him worrying his lip while looking at Kreacher’s picture.

Another set of footsteps were heard and the movement made him look up at one of the other patients, but seeing them made his blood go cold, recognizing that annoying face despite the amount of time which had passed.

“Hi.” Lockhart smiled that creepy smile at him, his all too perfect golden curls and perfect teeth.

Regulus cringed, remembering how the dumbest Ravenclaw he’d ever met insisted on taking a picture with him after one of the Quidditch matches between their two houses because they were both Seekers for their houses. It didn’t matter that Lockhart was also three years his junior either, he _liked_ making Regulus uncomfortable, particularly when he had a way of making him quite visible when he preferred being invisible. Except, now the man was so much older than him meaning much time had passed.

“Oh, so you do recognize me!” A shudder ran down his spine, fearing the idea that the only person who might actually recognize him was that fool who liked getting into his personal space. “I was quite sure you and I had met before, though I can’t rightly remember.” Which should have brought on some form of relief, but then again, Regulus didn’t like Lockhart. “But I’m glad to meet someone who remembers me because I rightly don’t remember me. Only my name because I’m signing so many pictures.”

“Mr. Lockhart,” one of the St. Mungo’s staff hurried over. “We’ve asked that you not bother the other patients. Let our John Doe here get some rest.”

“Oh. Goodbye Mr. Doe.” Lockhart waved at him as the staff member hauled him away, but then they came back.

“Apologies for that. It must have been a fright seeing a former Professor there, but then again you might have recognized him from one of his books. Get some rest.”

Regulus pulled the hospital sheets over his head, only peeking out so he could see the picture of Kreacher he drew, his mind wondering just how much time had passed. “ _I hate change. I hate change, I hate it._ ”


	3. Futileness

Unfortunately, becoming a permanent resident of St. Mungos seemed like his only option going forward. The staff, after all, remained convinced he was a young wizard somewhere between fourteen to sixteen years of age with the mental capacity of someone under the age of four, nor did they hesitate in treating him as such.

The vast majority of his words remaining locked on the tip of his tongue of course didn’t help, nor did Regulus understand _why_ his words remained locked up, as if he’d somehow regressed in regard to his verbal communication skills. Sometimes he wondered if this would even matter, given the fact he’d come to the harsh realization that nobody would actually believe a word he’d say. After all, the Healers in charge of his case definitely didn’t believe him when he wrote down his name, Regulus Arcturus Black. Why he’d even bothered trying a couple more times when he’d known they wouldn’t believe him, given the fact Lockhart now looked older than he remembered being, a stark clue to the fact quite a bit of time passed, he didn’t know.

It was the last time that he tried when one of the Healers finally said something along the lines of, “The thing is, we would know if one of the Black family actually had a child they named after the deceased Regulus Black, given how famous they are within the Wizarding community,” that made him realize how futile the attempt of convincing them who he really was, what with _that_ option being more believable than him having time-traveled into the future, nor did it seem worth it after that.

He also learned wandering the halls wasn’t an option. That started with wanting to find his wand, though in truth he should have been looking for information regarding what was actually going on in the Wizarding community. He’d felt naked without having said wand on him, or near him, so Regulus of course set out to find the object, given the fact he’d found himself unable to articulate the desire for his wand.

Regulus should have known the staff of St. Mungos wouldn’t take lightly to patients being out of their ward, but the times he did venture out of the ward he found himself unfortunately followed by one Lockhart who he absolutely wanted to avoid, asking the question of whether he knew the man. Of course, having Lockhart around was in Regulus’ opinion enough to get the tongue to lock up, what with how touchy-feely the man could be.

He _still_ remembered the dreaded time Lockhart pranced up to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder for that blasted picture, his entire body stiffening at the unfamiliar, not to mention uncalled for touch. The other Slytherin’s teased him for it ruly, every single one knowing that Lockhart wasn’t the sort his mother would want him associating with because of blood status, yet also because of his penchant for being overly friendly, something frowned upon for any well-mannered Pureblood.

Of course, in regards to things his _maman_ might throw a fit over and call him an abomination for, calling him filth and weak, ending up a permanent residence of St. Mungos definitely took the cake.

After all, one of the things he no longer did on his own was change his own clothing, something he’d thrown a complete fit over when it first started, frustrated that the staff didn’t understand that he _could_ change his clothing on his own let alone the fact he didn’t like being touched unless on his own terms. It was a definite sign of weakness and an invasion of privacy unbecoming of any pureblood, but he finally relented when he realized his mother would screech far worse regarding his fits as being improper behavior for someone of the noble house of Black.

Not that anybody actually knew _that_ , but he knew.

As such he made sure to eat at least one bite of everything put in front of him even if the food made him want to gag, simply knowing that his mother would throw a fit and send him to bed with absolutely no food if he’d spit it out as he had back at the Muggle hospital, though something in the back of his head told him she would have actually taken great glee at him spitting out food made by Muggles. That of course became his life over how much time passed since he’d arrived there.

“Poor child. It doesn’t look like you slept well last night again,” one of the Mediwitch in charge of him piped up, patting his arm, something he definitely didn’t appreciate. “And from the looks of your chart, it doesn’t look like you ate much of your breakfast or lunch either.”

Regulus rolled a crayon back and forth across the trey of his hospital bed, pushing his lips together. He found the motion quite soothing for some reason, but his mouth opened, saying one of the few things he’d managed in saying since he’d gotten there. “I want to go home.”

The Mediwitch opened her mouth but stopped. He looked up at her, half expecting her to suggest he draw a picture of home just as the Mediwitch suggested he draw a picture of where he went to school which resulted in a few pictures of Hogwarts being added to the picture of Kreacher on the wall, but they’d quickly learned asking for pictures of home or family was out of the question, let alone asking where home was. He shook his head, brushing it aside, knowing full any thoughts of the home which he couldn’t return to would result in a fit, him curling up into himself with his hands over his ears.

Mother would be far from pleased, but her voice in his head was one of the worst voices in regards to lecturing him about how much of a failure he was. “Can I bring you anything?”

He’d stopped asking for books upon realizing they would only ever bring him picture books; they certainly weren’t picking up on the looks they gave him when they brought him said books. “I want Siri.”

“Yes, well, we don’t know what or who that is, do we?”

Regulus let out a sigh, wishing Sirius would in fact find him even if it did mean ending up in Azkaban under dementors. Sirius knew how to make things better, though that stopped when he ran away from home, so any chance of him showing up here at St. Mungos even if he were still alive was next to none. Sirius proved the second loudest of the voices in his head, one which spoke with a mocking tone rather than the venom their mother spoke with, but wishful thinking honestly did nobody any good.

As such, Regulus simply pushed the crayon back and forth, letting the movement soothe his nerves while waiting for some form of a request for a drawing. Instead, another voice he didn’t recognize broke through. “Um, hello.”

The Mediwitch looked up. “Ah! Neville. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you come to visit your parents. Who’s your friend?”

“Oh. This is Luna Lovegood. She…” The person named Neville stopped.

“I made my father some cookies, but he refused to take any because he feels guilty for selling my friends out to Death Eaters.” The girl’s last words made Regulus flinch, wondering how the girl should be so candid about the matter. “I told him they forgave him, but he’s being stubborn.”

“ _That’s why._ ”

“So, I asked if I could maybe give them out to the residents of the permanent ward and the Mediwitch at the desk said it would be okay.”

The crayon stopped rolling, but the thought of a sweet treat did perk his attention, although he did hear his mother’s voice in the back of his head telling him he wasn’t to have any sweets without permission. The fact he was of age didn’t matter either because he was supposed to act like a respectable Pureblood. As such, his eyes continued looking at the crayon which he no longer rolled back and forth, his lips pushed together.

“That’s definitely okay,” the Mediwitch spoke with her normal chipper tone of voice. “This one might like one.”

“Yes. You’re new to the ward, aren’t you?”

Neville piped up, making Regulus glance up, surprised someone spoke to him directly. Of course, looking at the young man with brown hair and brown eyes in the eye resulted in him turning his head to the side and avoiding eye contact again. He rolled the crayon back and forth, his tongue pressed against the top of his teeth. This didn’t stop him from noticing the potted plant in the young man’s hand or the very curly pale blond hair of the girl who was with him.

“So, I was visiting my parents. I brought them this plant you see, but they’re not going to notice whether it was there or not. I mean, they don’t actually recognize me when I’m here.”

Which didn’t surprise Regulus given the fact Lockhart didn’t remember who Lockhart was, which he was still unsure of whether he should be thankful or not. The other permanent residents were also in a similar state. He rolled the crayon again, not responding, unsure of what to say let alone if he’d be able to.

“Anyways, I overheard them saying that you were new and all alone with no family.”

Regulus' mouth opened, not rolling the crayon back and forth while the Mediwitch clucked her tongue. “Please. Don’t use that word. It’s one of the ones, well…”

Indeed, he’d found himself curling up, pulling his knees up to his chest while clutching his ears. He didn’t rock back and forth, just sat there burying his face in his knees. He heard someone approach but paid it no mind even though he knew this usually meant being given a Calming Draught. Instead, he felt a pot pressed against his knees, which made him start sitting up in confusion, but even more, confusion occurred when he felt the pot shoved into his arms.

“Here. I think you need this more than my parents do.”

Regulus’ eyes blinked, while he moved into a sitting position with the pot now sitting in his lap. He sat cross-legged, something he was sure his mother would throw a fit over if she only knew. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl with blond hair facing in a direction where she could look at his pictures, but he also saw an older witch, one who looked like a proper Pureblood lady, peeking around the corner, seeming amuses.

“The point is, it looked like you could use a friend.”

Regulus sucked in his breath, shaking his head while gritting his teeth together. He definitely wanted a friend; he knew he wanted a friend, yet in the back of his head he knew there was no reason for anybody to want to be his friend, what with neither side taking kindly to his views on Pureblood supremacy, one finding them childish and the other prejudice. His eyes closed.

“Well?”

There was also the fact he was a Death Eater. Taking a deep breath, he pointed at the inside of his left arm while his left hand formed a tight fist, his eyes pinched closed, expecting rejection just like he’d always feared rejection his entire life. He heard the scraping of a chair, then felt someone gently take his fist and gently prod his fingers apart. He at first flinched, put the aged fingers were gentle. “Now, now. No need to hurt yourself.”

Regulus' eyes flickered open to see the Pureblood witch having moved from peering out from one of the screens to sitting beside him, but he noticed how his nails started digging slightly into the palm of his hand. He opened his mouth to protest, only to close them again.

Instead, she patted his arm gently. “You seem like a nice enough young man, but not everyone joined up out of choice.” Except, it certainly did feel like he had a choice in the matter, but suspected Sirius would say something along those lines. “Others didn’t really know what they were getting into, did they?” His eyes remained closed. “I’m Augusta Longbottom, by the way.” Meaning she was definitely from a Pureblood family, one of the elite. “This is my grandson Neville. He actually remembered to tell you the name of his friend here, but perhaps he can remember to tell you something about that plant he gave you.”

“Ah, yes.” Neville sucked in his breath. “Well, so as not to bore you regarding the practical applications, its blooms are rather pretty, but the leaves are soft and velvety. Touch them.”

Regulus’ eyes opened, his fingers brushing against the leaves, sucking in his breath at the softness, a rather delightful experience, but yet another calming thing. He still felt ashamed about the mark on his arm, yet none of the ones there judged him for having the mark, though whether this would remain true was yet to be seen. “So, did you draw all of these pictures?”

He froze upon hearing the girl’s voice but didn’t look up. Eventually, he went back to stroking the leaf, wondering how his mother would take to his pursuing anything artistic. He’d thought she would throw a gasket when he painted the Black family crest over his bed, given the fact she didn’t at all liked how Sirius personalized his room, yet she seemed quite impressed with the endeavor, if not mildly amused.

“Those are rather…” Neville paused. “Is that House Elf named Kreacher.”

“Yes,” Regulus said, softly, unsure if anybody heard him. After all, it didn’t feel as if anybody would hear him.

“Gran. I’m going to see if they’ll let me Floo over to Harry’s place.”

“Oh.”

“I think he might actually know something about our friend here.”

Regulus’ eyes blinked, confused regarding what this Harry might have to do with him, as he’d never heard of anyone named Harry before. The girl named Luna distracted him, sitting down on the edge of his bed, making him suck in his breath. She picked up a crayon while Neville left the room and started drawing on the paper. “Care to draw with me?”

Regulus continued holding onto the plant, but one hand reached for a crayon, still unsure of what he should draw, his eyes drawn to what she was drawing instead, his mind finding a nice distraction from everything which overwhelmed him the last few days. Augusta remained, reminding him of his Aunt Lucretia for some reason, only for him to brush this aside.


	4. Broken Teacups

Grimmauld Place was now Harry’s place.

In truth, Hermione knew Grimmauld Place became Harry’s place the moment Sirius Black died, yet the war prevented her best friend from ever making the place truly his own, let alone having the chance to decide if he really wanted to make such a place his own. Even in the little time spent there when she, Harry, and Ron were hiding away from Voldemort and his compatriots, there was no time for such things.

Now, a week after the actual true demise of Voldemort, Hermione found herself back there at Grimmauld Place along with Harry, Ron, and Ginny, the plan being to truly survey the place now that Kingsley Shacklebot gave the go-ahead, having personally overseen the Ministry of Magic as they looked over the place to make sure the Death Eaters who stormed the place after Hermione tipped them off to the location didn’t leave any traps.

Upon arriving on the front step, the four found themselves looking up at the door which Shacklebot made sure was repaired to give some semblance of home, each one feeling nervous about stepping into Grimmauld Place for a variety of reasons.

“If it was me mate, I’d sell the place and be done with it.” Ron’s comment made Hermione turn and look at her boyfriend in time to see Ginny give her brother a quick jab in the ribs while giving him a look Molly would be proud of. Only, the look Ginny gave him did nothing to phase Ron and he looked at his sister incredulously. “What?”

Harry took a deep breath, glancing at Ron. “Perhaps it’s kind of nice, having not grown up in the Wizarding world to have a place tied to family, albeit that family being my Godfather.”

“Yeah. But we’re your family,” Ron’s mouth twisted into a frown, obviously confused regarding why Harry might want his own place away from the Weasley family.

“Ignore Ron,” Ginny rolled her eyes, heading up the stairs to push the door open, only to pause remembering the spells put in place to keep Severus Snape out.

Harry smiled, reaching out to open the door. “Remember. Kingsley said they removed the spells which would make it less than desirable to live here.”

Upon Harry opening the door, the four found themselves created by a certain House Elf, who made a quick bow, albeit awkward for his old age. “Kreacher welcomes Master Harry home and extends a greeting to his guests.”

Ron’s mouth twisted in amusement. “I thought House Elves were supposed to remain unnoticed.”

Hermione watched Kreacher’s big eyes blink, rubbing his hands in agitation indicating he planned on physically punishing himself for the perceived transgression which in turn made her glare at Ron. “Kreacher has erred. Kreacher will…”

“Don’t!” Harry’s voice rose, one of his hands held out drawing the attention of the House Elf. “Don’t punish yourself. It was actually very nice being greeted upon our arrival, but…”

He looked at Hermione, unsure of what to say in the given situation. She took a deep breath. “It stands to reason that the etiquette will vary from master to master.”

“Yes, yes it does,” Kreacher said cheerfully, catching sight of the relief on Harry’s face. “Kreacher lives to please his master.”

“Well, I will be sure to let you know if I need anything Kreacher.”

“Will Master Harry and company be wanting to partake of their next meal here?”

“Not yet decided,” Harry smiled at the creature who disappeared with a resounding crack, ready to appear the moment Harry needed him.

Ginny glanced around, a twinkle in her eyes. “Well, I know you three have been here since Sirius died, but I haven’t. I’ve some fond memories of this place.”

“Fond?” Ron glanced over at his sister, his mouth twisting into a frown, baffled regarding why she would think that way when Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

His sister gave him a scathing look. “Well, Fred and George developed quite a few of their products here.” A sudden smirk spread across her face. “Race you to the room Fred and George used to see if they left anything in there.”

Ginny took off, Ron’s mouth opening, saying something regarding there possibly being spells missed when Shacklebot gave the place a once over, only for him to nearly jump out of his skin when the portrait of Walburga went off. He pointed at the painting, yelling over it after his sister. “See! They couldn’t be bothered to bloody remove this thing!”

Harry let out a sigh, watching the two hurry up the stairs as Ron let out a curse. Hermione watched him head up to the portrait, only to stop when Kreacher appeared, snapping the curtain’s shut and offering Harry an apology for the noise his mistress was making before disappearing again. Harry stood there, a bit surprised by the action, before starting up the stairs. “I’m going to the drawing-room.”

“Ah. Yes. The room we slept in while we were hiding.” Hermione followed suit, finding Harry heading towards the window so he might open the curtain wide adding light to the rather dreary room. Hermione instead headed over the tapestry, remembering a conversation she had with Harry while they were staying there hiding.

“ _Arcturus is still alive?_ ”

“ _Ah. Sirius said something about him not mattering, given the fact he’s secluded himself from the rest of the Wizarding World sometime after the last war ended._ ”

Taking a deep breath, she looked at the tapestry, her eyes quickly going to Bellatrix and noting the death year now registering as this year despite the fact nobody seemed to come in and correct the tapestry, meaning it worked rather similar to how the clock at the Weasley family home acted, yet Tonks and Ted were missing because Andromada ended up blasted from the tapestry. Her eyes slowly drifted over to another scorch mark when her brown eyes caught sight of something out of the norm.

“Harry,” Hermione felt her throat tighten.

“Yes?” Harry turned his head, looking rather relaxed from where he stood looking out at the Muggles passing by on the street.

“Come look at this.”

“If it's Bellatrix’s death date being added to the tapestry, I couldn’t care. In fact, I’d rather prefer not.”

“No. It’s not.” Hermione turned her attention back to the picture of Sirius’ younger brother, her arms crossing while her hands tightened slightly, her lip pushing together. “Please let me know I’m not mistaken about what I see.”

Harry walked over, a smirk spreading across his face. “Mistaken in what you see?” When he arrived at the tapestry, Hermione pointed at the date, which now read “ _(1961-1979, 1998)_ ”. His mouth twisted into a frown, his head turning to Hermione. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Well, in history it means a pause in something, such as when a king might reign for so many years, have his throne taken, and then take it back.”

“You mean…” A twinkle appeared in Harry’s eyes and then he called out. “Kreacher!”

The House Elf popped into the room. Hermione held up her hands, her heart pounding in her chest. “Wait! Wait to give him an order until we have more information?”

Harry looked at her. “Yes, but…”

“Please! Trust me!”

Harry sighed, looking at Kreacher. “Can you let Ron and Ginny know Hermione and I would like to see them in the drawing-room? We’ll tell you what is going on when they get here, but you’re not to act on what we tell you, not until we determine if it is the right time for it.”

“Yes, Master Harry.” The House Elf disappeared as a crack, quickly followed by a crashing sound coming from the drawing-room fireplace.

Both Harry and Hermione turned and looked at the fireplace as ash rose up and someone started into a coughing fit, waving their hand around. Hermione’s eyes blinked. “Neville?”

“Sorry. Sorry!” Neville continued waving his hand. “I was just at St. Mungos.”

“Is anyone we know hurt? Or has someone recovered from the battle at Hogwarts?” Harry asked, his eyes wide.

“Um. No.” Neville cleared his voice, coughing again before banging a fist against his chest. “I was visiting my parents when I came across a person I think you would be interested in?”

“You mean Regulus Arcturus Black?” Harry piped up.

“I don’t…”

“Master Harry’s friend has information regarding Master Regulus?” Kreacher came in.

“Yeah. The person in the hospital wing. They did draw a picture of that House Elf. I mean, his name is Kreacher, right?”

Kreacher’s ears twitched in confusion, his hands wringing as Ron and Ginny thundered down the stairs. “I told you that we wouldn’t find anything in the room they used. I mean, they’d want to use _everything_ , and they’re quite stingy.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at Ron. “Hello, Neville.”

“Kreacher’s name is Kreacher. What does this have to do with Master Regulus?” This of course made Ron and Ginny look at each other in confusion.

“Kreacher, remember how I gave the order not to react until we determine it’s the right time to act?”

“And the best way to act.”

“Yes. Kreacher remembers.” Kreacher fidgeted, still confused, but a twinkle appearing in his eyes as he rocked back and forth on his heels, excited regarding news of his favorite master.

“Why don’t you fetch the five of us tea?”

“Yes. Kreacher will do that.”

“So, Regulus Arcturus Black is?” Neville asked after the House Elf disappeared with a resounding crack.

“Sirius’ younger brother.”

“Shouldn’t he…” Neville frowned.

“What is it? Something is bothering you.”

“Well, the young man I met, he looks to be around our age, not around our parents' age.”

“You man you met?” Ron’s mouth twisted into a frown.

Hermione turned her head, looking at the tapestry. “Well, that I think actually does make sense. He would have been, what, eighteen when he supposedly died?”

“Supposedly died?” Ron let out a rather amused laugh. “He did die. I mean, there wasn’t any way for someone to escape those Infiri that Voldemort set up at that place the Horcrux was.” He then added, “Plus, you can’t bring people back from the dead.”

“Yes, well…” Hermione turned her head to look at the tapestry. “The tapestry wouldn’t lie. Regulus is alive.”

Her words were followed by the smashing of teacups, her head turning to see a rather wide-eyed Kreacher. “Master Regulus is alive?”

“Kreacher. I’m sorry. That’s not…” Hermione bit her lip.

“We didn’t want to surprise you like that,” Harry piped up. “But, I know you want to act on this information, but…”

Hermione took a deep breath. “We don’t know how Regulus is doing, but if the tapestry is any indicator there are nearly twenty years of things going on that he’s missed out upon. Like the death of his mother and father for example, but we don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“You is quite considerate to consider Master Regulus’ well being,” Kreacher muttered.

Ginny smiled at him. “I know you really, _really_ want to rush off to see him, but let us figure out what is going on and what he needs. Harry’s definitely not forbidding you from seeing him, or taking care of him, just asking you to let us figure out what is going on.”

“And definitely no hysterics in front of him,” Harry stated.

“Oh. From what I’ve seen, that would be ideal,” Neville piped up. “He’s quite jumpy and isn’t saying much, but my gran and Luna are with him now.”

“Wait. You guys aren’t…” Ron let out a deep breath. “It’s got to be some kind of trick. Right?”

“I…” Neville tilted his head. “He does look like Sirius Black, but younger and smaller. Slightly different eye color.”

“But how did you find him?” Ginny asked. “I mean…”

“I’d brought a plant for my parents, but then learned there was a young wizard in the ward and I thought he could use it more. Luna, she was making rounds with the cookies she brought for her father that he refused. Feeling guilty for something.”

“Uh, like turning us into the Death Eaters?”

“I can’t blame him,” Hermione stated. “I mean, he lost his wife so horrifically, but was afraid of losing his daughter.”

“Yeah,” Ron let out a sigh. “I can blame him.”

“So.” Harry looked at Kreacher. “We’ll head over to St. Mungos and fill you in on what is going on. You won’t be left in the dark, but once we get a better idea of what’s going on I’ll give you instructions on how to proceed, because we want what’s best for Regulus, right?”

“Right,” Kreacher said nervously, rocking back and forth before cleaning up the broken teacups. “Kreacher will punish…”

“No punishing yourself for those broken cups. It was a rightful fright for you, walking in and hearing that, so I’m not mad,” Harry stated. “Oh. And we don’t have Floo powder.” He pulled out a couple of sickles. “Can you go and buy us some? It will make things quicker?”

“Yes. Yes, Kreacher can do that.” The House Elf smiled, please to have something helpful to do beyond cleaning up his own mess.


	5. Innominate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note and heads up regarding Ron in this chapter. He does mean well and isn't trying to purposefully be insensitive, but he doesn't at all have a good read on the situation and thus ends up unintentionally blundering.

“So, what should we expect?”

Hermione of course didn’t know what to expect, although her mind did go to the potential of a worst-case of scenario when Harry called Kreacher into the drawing-room. There existed no precedent that she knew of, her mind recognizing the permanence of death despite all of the attempts by wizards in witches in the past to counter this permanence.

“I don’t know.” She gave an honest answer while Ron gave her a look almost as if asking why she didn’t _have_ the answer. “I mean, I don’t know what we should expect beyond the fact death isn’t something someone is supposed to come back from which in turn means…” Her mouth twisted. “The ministry will likely want to be involved.”

Harry fidgeted nervously, waiting for Kreacher to return. “You don’t mean they’ll take him away, or…”

“My gran won’t allow it,” Neville piped up. “But they most certainly won’t get the better of her.”

“Plus, Shacklebot is in charge. I’m sure he wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”

“I hope not. He’s Sirius’ brother.”

Which of course brought about another issue Hermione felt needed to be brought up. “Also, the other thing is I don’t know how he’ll react given we know absolutely nothing about his personality. He’s _not_ Sirius, Harry.”

“Of course, we know something about his personality,” Ron piped up. “He was a Death Eater and they’re all into that Pureblood crap.”

Neville’s eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth opening only for Ginny to beat him to the punch. “Ron!”

“What?” He glared back at his sister who stood there with her arms crossed. “I’m right.”

“He seemed nice,” Neville piped up, his mouth twisting into a frown while Ron switched to giving him a look of disbelief. “He’s rather shy.”

The conversation ended with the sound of a crack as Kreacher apparated into the room, the purchased floo powder before proceeding to light a fire in the fireplace so they might floo to St. Mungos. As Hermione headed through the fireplace, she heard Harry mention something about cleaning out the fireplace before they returned so that they might not experience the issues Neville did when he arrived, but upon arriving she found herself talking a deep breath.

“Well, this can’t possibly turn out well,” Ron muttered.

Hermione honestly didn’t know _what_ to expect. “It might actually turn out quite well. Remember, after all, he betrayed Voldemort.”

“Well…” Ron’s mouth twisted slightly, his head nodding. “That is true.”

Neville hurried over to speak with one of the staff members as the others came through the Floo. Ginny gave a nervous smile, a feeling Hermione mutually felt. The mediwitch hurried over a smile on their face. “Mr. Longbottom here says you might actually know our young patient.”

“Yes,” Harry smiled, a twinkle of hope in his eyes while his mouth twisted into a slight grin.

“That’s good. He was found by Muggles a week ago,” the mediwitch said, which made sense given the fact the battle at Hogwarts occurred, making Hermione wonder if Regulus’ reappearance had anything to do with Voldemort’s defeat, yet she said nothing. “You can go in and see him, but don’t do anything that agitates him too much.”

Hermione’s throat tightened as the mediwitch turned, leading all of them towards where she expected to see Regulus Black, but as they headed into the ward she saw Neville smile at a couple of individuals who shared neighboring beds, meaning they were likely his parents. Soon, they saw Luna and Neville’s grandmother. A young man who definitely looked like he might be related to Sirius Black was in the bed, apparently enjoying drawing with the crayons while Luna joined him in the activity.

“It is him,” Harry said, a smile appearing on his face while Regulus continued drawing with the crayons while Luna looked up. Hermione noted how Regulus paused when she stopped drawing before quickly going back to what he was doing as if there wasn’t anybody else in the room. Harry took a deep breath. “Regulus? Regulus Black?”

Upon hearing his name, Regulus looked up, his eyes blinking as if surprised to hear his name. The look in his eyes quickly changed, his eyes widening as if frightened by something, only for him to moments later lurch off the hospital bed, as if to get away from Harry. Hermione watched him back himself into a corner of the area allotted him, sliding down and covering his ears while everyone watched. “M… sorry.”

The smile quickly left Harry’s face, but he didn’t give up. He stepped forward, lowering his voice a little in an attempt to sound less threatening. “Regulus, it’s okay.”

Hermione watched, or more of heard how Harry’s words did nothing to convince Regulus that things were indeed okay. “’m sorry Siri. I’m real sorry. You didn’t have to send Potter. You didn’t. I’m sorry Siri. I’ll behave. Really I will. Really.”

He then started muttering under his breath that he would behave while Harry looked on confused. He turned his head to look at the mediwitch while Ginny reached out and grabbed onto his arm so she might pull him into a hug in an attempt to comfort him. “What happened?”

“I think he thinks you are your father,” Hermione stated.

“That…” Harry looked at the mediwitch.

“Sorry. The healers in charge of his case have more information regarding what is going on, but this has actually been quite normal.”

“Harry…” Ginny looked at her boyfriend, her lips pushing together. “Why don’t you and I step outside of the ward and talk with the healers to find out what is going on?”

“He may not react to me the same way he did you.” Hermione piped up, giving Harry a rather weak smile. In the back of her mind, she hoped beyond hope she was actually right. “Give him time to understand you’re not your father.”

“Yeah.” Harry let out a sigh, letting Ginny lead him out of the room.

When they left, Ron piped up. “Told you this wouldn’t go well.”

“Ronald Weasley…” Hermione spoke in a low manner, glaring at her boyfriend. “Could you be a tad more sensitive regarding what’s going on?”

“He’s bloody faking it,” Ron stated. Glancing around at the others in the room, Hermione noticed from the corner of her eye how Neville’s eyes widened in surprise while Augusta Longbottom narrowed hers, but the way Augusta’s mouth tightened reminded Hermione she wasn’t a witch to toy around with even in her old age. Luna of course seemed as if she were off in her own world, watching Regulus carefully from where she sat on the bed.

Hermione of course found herself frustrated with Ron’s choice of words, yet bit down slightly on her bottom lip. “Why would you say that?”

“Because he’s a Death Eater.” Ron folded his arms. “He’s trying to not get sent to Azkaban. I can’t blame him.”

Turning her head so she might see Regulus, Hermione noted how Regulus went quiet, yet remained hunkered into his corner section of the ward, his face now pressed into his knees while his hands remained clutched to his head. Every so often his body shuddered, which in turn worried her, yet so did Ron apparently forgetting what they learned about Regulus in their hunt for the Horcrux. Except, she didn’t _want_ to believe he’d forgotten.

“I assure you, he’s not faking it.” Hermione’s eyes blinked, turning her head to look at Augusta Longbottom who now glared at Ron which in turn made Ron tense completely up.

“He’s really not,” Neville said, though a look from Ron said he didn’t believe Neville’s word on the matter, though perhaps, Hermione hoped, Augusta’s word might have some weight with her boyfriend.

She waited for him to say nothing, but instead, Ron said nothing, as if pondering what the two said. This allowed Hermione the chance of turning her attention to Regulus. Slowly, methodically, she moved so she was closer to him, slowly getting down onto her hands and knees, hoping beyond hope that he’d not react negatively to her presence. A quick glance up at Luna made her wonder if the other girl might not be a better option.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke. “Regulus?” He didn’t make a move to look up at her, but his body did seem to tense up more. “The person you saw, that was Harry Potter, not James.”

Hermione watched Regulus' muscles twitch ever so slightly as if contemplating her words before lifting his head. “Then Siri didn’t…” He stopped speaking, looking her in the eye, his head tilting slightly. “Andy? You’re here Andy?” She didn’t expect those words, let alone what happened next, how Regulus' body started becoming less tense, but one of his hands reached out for the sleeve of her shirt, almost as if aching for the touch.

“Bloody hell! What are you doing!” Ron snapped.

The sound of Ron’s voice made Regulus’ body snap backward in a jarring manner, his arms falling to his side while his head made contact with the wall behind him with a rather loud crack. A pair of silver-grey eyes darted around the room in a panic, while words attempted to choke out of Regulus' mouth. Hermione pressed her lips together, turning her head to say something to Ron when Augusta spoke again.

“Please leave the ward if you’re not going to use a calm tone.” Augusta turned her head so she might look at her grandson. “And you don’t need to say she can take care of herself. Only a complete idiot would think she couldn’t.”

Of course, calling Ron an idiot even by mere implication felt to Hermione like Augusta took her comments a bit far, yet Ron responded by swallowing and looking at the woman as if she were Molly Weasley. “Yes, mam.”

“Regulus?” Turning back so Hermione might see Regulus, she saw a young man with his head tilted forward so she could no longer see his silvery-grey eyes while one hand reached back to touch the back of his head, something she noted she would need to tell the nurse about.

“Sorry, Andy.”

“Who’s Andy?” Neville asked

Regulus responded by pointing at Hermione, still not looking her in the eye. Ron let out a sigh of irritation, but turning her head slightly let her see he was fidgeting, looking at Regulus uncomfortably. The young man lifted a finger, pointing it at her hesitantly. “Andy is Andy.”

Hermione sucked in a deep breath while hearing Ron let out a sigh of frustration. “Do you mean Andromeda?”

Yet, in the back of her mind, she didn’t understand why he would think she was Andromeda, none at all. Her question made Regulus looked up, the confusion all too evident on his face. “You should know that.”

“Regulus, I’m not Andromeda.”

His eyes blinked rapidly, his mouth opening and closing. “Her daughter?”

Hermione’s eyes blinked, wondering if to Regulus she looked like Andromeda, but she couldn’t help but feel he was attempting to look for something familiar. “Oh. No. I’m not.”

“But you’re a Black.” She watched how he sucked in his breath, still tucking himself into his corner, making her feel even more that he was attempting to find something, anything which was familiar in a now unfamiliar world.

“She’s Muggle-Born,” Ron muttered. Glancing up, she saw Ron glared at Regulus. He stood their his arms crossed, keeping his voice calm so that Neville’s grandmother wouldn’t order him to leave, yet this didn’t stop her from giving him the look. Tact, Hermione remembered at that moment, wasn’t one of Ron’s strong points.

“No. She can’t. She looks…”

“You’re in denial because your Pureblood beliefs say you can’t have anything to do with her.”

“That’s not…” Regulus closed his eyes, a shuddering breath leaving his mouth. He shook his head, wrapping his arms around his knees.

“You think Purebloods are superior.”

“We are. It’s our job…” Regulus leaned forward, opening his eyes as his entire body tensed up, a slight hum leaving his lips.

“To kill them?” Ron pipped up, not noticing even Luna looking at him with a look that indicated he was overstepping, albeit unintentionally. Augusta of course wasn’t pleased.

“No. Help them.”

“You mean like Kreacher?” Hermione piped up, her curiosity perked.

“What does…” Ron let out another one of his sighs of frustration.

“Yes. Like Kreacher.”

“I think I understand where you’re coming from.”

“Hermione! This is a load of tosh!”

Augusta cleared her voice at Ron raising his voice even more, though Hermione wasn’t sure if he noticed. He was looking at her horrified. Taking a deep breath, she found herself saying. “Ron, let’s talk outside.”

He opened his mouth to respond, only to stop when someone latched onto her sleeve while the horrified look on Ron’s face didn’t leave. There was a tug and she turned to look at Regulus again. “Don’t go. I’ll be back.” He didn’t look her in the eye but did in fact continue clutching onto her sleeve. Regulus didn’t let go until she said, “I promise. I’ll be back.”


	6. Aspects of Family

Family.

Grimmauld Place undeniably represented family to Harry. He’d inherited the place after all from his Godfather and despite Sirius’ own negative childhood memories, Harry held quite a few positive ones from the summer before and Christmas during his fifth year. Ron wasn’t wrong in saying the Weasley’s were like family, yet Grimmauld Place was his own.

He’d not expected the surprise which awaited him when he stepped into the place, but more importantly, he felt momentarily he might get back some of what he lost and might in turn help Regulus in the same manner. The wishful hope that everything would go over with ease as he wanted quickly became dashed at Regulus’ reaction and Hermione pointing out the reason for the said reaction.

Harry definitely didn’t think about how Regulus might feel about anything, including one James Potter. In the back of his mind, he remembered how his father and the rest of the Marauders bullied Severus Snape, yet there was no telling what kind of relationship Regulus had with any of them, even his own brother.

“The Mediwitch, she said you might know the identity of the young man we brought in earlier this week,” said someone in a rather low tone so others might not hear.

Harry looked up at the Healer, finally registering Ginny at his side, holding onto his arm as if she knew how much Regulus’ reaction hurt. More specifically, they were now at the Mediwitch station for the floor. “Yes. His name is Regulus Arcturus Black.”

He expected the man to look at him in surprise, but he didn’t expect him to say, “He said that,” followed by, “Well, he wrote that was his name when we asked him, but…”

“ _Why_ didn’t you believe him?” Harry’s voice strained, yet Ginny tugging on his sleeve made him realize he needed to remain calm.

“Why?” The Healer looked at him as if still taking in what Harry just revealed. “There hasn’t been a word of another member of the Black family being born since the previous war, let alone one named after the one who died during said war.”

“Actually, he’s not that Regulus Black,” Ginny piped up, squeezing Harry’s arm.

“That’s not possible. That Regulus Black is dead, not to mention the fact that young man is too young. He would be in his thirties, not fourteen to sixteen years of age.”

Harry closed his eyes. “How many years are there between nineteen-sixty-one and nineteen-seventy-nine?”

“Eighteen.”

“That’s how old he is.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The tapestry. Those are his birth and death dates, but there is a third-year after them. This year.”

The Healer sucked in his breath. “We’re going to have to, unfortunately, contact the Ministry of Magic.”

Harry felt his stomach sink. “Because he’s a Death Eater?”

Ginny squeezed his arm while the Healer shook his head. “We would have contacted them already if that were the case. No. This has to do with the fact people just don’t come back from the dead, but there seems to be some form of time travel involved.”

This of course unsettled Harry, even more, the fear of what the Ministry of Magic might do once they learned about Regulus actually being alive. “Shacklebot. Tell Shacklebot.”

“The interim Minister of Magic?”

“Tell him that Harry Potter asked him to get involved specifically.”

“Yes, I’ll note that,” the Healer muttered. “It would actually help if you know who this Siri person he keeps asking for is.”

Harry sucked in his breath, glancing over at Ginny. She’d let him do most of the talking but decided she needed to say something. “Poor Regulus. He doesn’t know.”

“Then you do know who that person is?”

“I believe it would be my Godfather, Sirius Black. His older brother.”

The Healer's mouth twisted slightly. “I see. He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“He died at the Ministry of Magic, back when everyone learned that Voldemort was actually back.”

“But you would know how to get in contact with the family?”

The words of course stung given the fact, regardless of how Regulus felt, Harry knew how he felt. His eyes closed in frustration. “I’m family. He’s my Godfather’s younger brother, but that’s honestly the only family I have left after this war. Well, that’s not completely true. There’s Andromeda and Teddy, my Godson and my Godson’s grandmother. Andromeda, I don’t know how he’ll react to her given the fact she was outed from the Black family.”

He didn’t bring up the fact there was also the Malfoy family, yet that wasn’t something Harry was sure of either. Sure, Narcissa did in fact turn on Voldemort and save his life, but all three still from what he knew held the same views as Regulus, nor did he know how they would react to knowing the reason he betrayed the Dark Lord was over a House Elf.

“It’s more of a matter we need someone who knew Regulus as a child.”

Harry’s eyes snapped open in surprise. “May I ask why?”

The Healer took a deep breath. “Once his lot was no longer in charge of the Ministry, we were able to resume sending individuals into Muggle hospitals in search of Muggles inflicted by magical maladies. We’d not expected to find a young wizard, but more importantly, the Muggles were starting to assess the patient, and having observed some of his behavior, we do think there is something to it.”

“Something to what?” Ginny’s voice made Harry look up allowing him to see she was just as worried as he was.

“The Muggles believed, well, it’s rather hard to explain if you’re not familiar with Muggle society, and even then…”

“Harry was raised by his Muggle relatives.”

“Well, that might make things easier and you might be able to explain things to the rest of his family. I certainly would not be looking forward to figuring out how to contact the head of the Black family after he’s become a recuse let alone explaining to that man that we’re contemplating giving Regulus a Muggle diagnosis.”

“Hold on…”

Harry closed his eyes, remembering something Sirius said. “ _That would be my grandfather. Sure, he’s still alive, but he and everyone else won’t be setting foot in here. Not only is it my place now and everyone hates me so, but he and good old Aunt Lucretia became recluses from Wizarding Society towards the end of the last war. Can’t blame them, given the strain of having not one, but two Death Eaters in the family let alone another married to one._ ”

“Because the Black family fell into disgrace towards the end of the war,” Harry muttered. Taking a deep breath, he continued. ”I’m aware of their grandfather being alive, but I don’t know him anywhere well enough to send a personal message to particularly when I don’t know how he’d react given the fact the Black family is known for believing in Pureblood Supremacy. Regulus' actions towards the end of the war, the actions which led to his death, or everyone believing him dead…”

“Ah. Yes. There’s mention in the Daily Prophet regarding the fact he’s been posthumously recommended for the Order or the Merlin, but the article actually questioned this given the fact he was known to be…”

“A Death Eater?” Harry let out a sigh.

“Harry knew that when he recommended Regulus for the award,” Ginny’s mouth pushed into a thin line. “What is this about a Muggle diagnosis?”

The Healer took a deep breath before breaking into his explanation of the matter which, despite having been raised among Muggles, Harry found himself not understanding beyond the fact he did hear the words “possibly autistic” and “developmental issues”. In the back of his mind, what was being said honestly didn’t make any sense at all and he said as much which in turn surprised the healer.

“I’m telling you, Hermione, it’s a load of tosh!”

“Ron, you already said that but haven’t…”

“Ah, Hermione. Ron.” Harry found himself perking up, waving the two over, noting the looks of frustration on both their faces. “Hermione might understand what you’re talking about better than me.”

Both came over, rather reluctantly, but as the Healer explained what he’d tried explaining to Harry to her, Hermione’s face brightened up, the corners of her mouth twisting up. “That makes sense given what I saw.”

Ron, who watched her carefully while standing there with his arms crossed, rolled his eyes at her. “Of course, you’d think that this load of tosh makes sense!”

Hermione in turn glared at him while Harry looked at Ginny, but from the look on her face, she also suspected where the current conversation was headed. “Excuse me?”

“Regulus Black is too intelligent to be a retard, but you of all people should know that the way he’s acting in there is way below his intelligence level. I mean, we’re talking someone who figured out that Voldemort created Hor…”

“Don’t use that word in public, Ron,” Hermione muttered, fuming at him, but the look on the Healer’s face, with the way he paled at the use of the word retard and he stared right at Ron made Harry think the man wanted to correct Ron as well, though not in regard to Ron almost using the word Horcrux in public.

“Fine. He wouldn’t have pulled one over on Voldemort of all people if he wasn’t intelligent, so this whole thinking your Andromeda Tonks let alone thinking you must be of the Black family is just an act.”

“And pray to tell why would he do that Ron?”

“So he doesn’t have to end up in Azkaban of course!”

“Ron…” Ginny let out a sigh while Harry shook his head, deciding to let the girls handle this one.

“Oh, come on Ginny. You can’t blame him, particularly since the place used to be crawling all over with Dementors. I certainly don’t blame him for not wanting to go there, but he is most definitely _not_ a retard and you need to stop believing this act of his.”

“Ron, you don’t know what you’re talking about and I’m going back in there without you.”

“Hermione…”

Harry’s eyes closed and he sucked in his breath, knowing full well Ron was about to _really_ step into it with Hermione, yet he didn’t know what Ron would say or do this time. Ginny squeezed his arm, indicating she was thinking the same thing.

“Him or me.”

Harry’s eyes snapped open, his jaw-dropping, first looking at Hermione who stood there with her arms crossed, glaring at Ron before looking at Ginny who worried her bottom lip. “Are you really making me choose?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Ginny, would you apologize to your mother for me? I have to do what I believe is right.” Hermione turned to leave while Ron’s eyes blinked in confusion.

“Hermione, wait…”

She turned, the look of anger on her face all too evident. “You just asked me to choose between helping Regulus out as if he were some bloody rival for your affection Ron.”

“I’m not jealous!” Ron protested.

“I didn’t say you were, but you did attempt to blackmail me with continuing our relationship to get your way, so I am choosing not to continue our relationship.” Hermione turned and left, heading back into the room.

“Nice one, Ron,” Harry let out a sigh.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Ron stated, the confusion quite evident. “He’s honestly faking it and…”

“I guarantee you, whatever you saw in there, he wasn’t faking it, nor is it an indicator that he is lacking in intelligence as you put it.”

Ginny let out a sigh, letting go of Harry’s arm. “Ron. Let’s head home while this sinks in for you. This will give Harry time to talk to Kingsley when he gets here.”

“Kinglsey?” Ron looked at Harry skeptically. “They’re turning him over to the Ministry so he can be placed into Azkaban. I’m sorry…”

“No, no. It’s more of to do with the fact people just don’t come back from the dead.” Harry pushed his lips together. “Ron, what did you mean by Regulus confusing Hermione for Andromeda?”

“Just that. When he saw her, he kept insisting she was Andy, which Hermione said must be Andromeda. She told him that wasn’t the case and then he tried insisting she was her daughter and then that she must be a member of the Black family.”

“Come on Ron, before you cause more trouble.” Ginny tugged on her brother’s mouth.

“I did not,” Ron protested while his sister mouthed the words sorry to Harry.4

Harry let out a sigh. “Sorry for that.”

“Well, if your friend looks like this Andromeda person when she was younger, I think it’s quite understandable that the patient would think that way, regardless of whether we’re right regarding the diagnosis or not. Perhaps we should talk about this more in my office while I send a message to Shacklebot and we wait for him to show?”

“Yes.” Harry took a deep breath, thankful to find himself taking a seat a few minutes later in the office, yet not feeling any less nervous as he looked around. “You were saying his reaction isn’t surprising?”

“Given what he’s been through, no.”

“But you don’t have the full details of what happened. There are very few people who do.”

“I know that Inferi were involved and I know he did something which in turn resulted in you recommending him for the Order of Merlin. Outside of what I need to treat him as a patient, I don’t need any more details.”

“There would have also been a potion involved,” Harry took a deep breath, describing the effects of the potion.

“Yes. That would leave someone in quite the shock.”

“Shock. He thought I was my father when he first saw me and thought my godfather was angry at him and sent my father instead.”

“I guess it does feel like an understatement, but…”

The Floo went off in the office and Kingsley stepped through, tipping his head slightly to acknowledge Harry. “The Head Healer said there was something you need to talk to me about, but he didn’t go into details.”

Harry glanced at the man behind the desk, pushing his lips together wondering for a brief moment whether the man in charge of St. Mungos handled Regulus’ situation correctly. Taking a deep breath, he turned towards Kingsley. “Regulus is alive.”

“Sirius’ younger brother?” The man took a deep breath. “Well, isn’t that an interesting turn of events? This wouldn’t happen to correlate with the defeat of Voldemort?”

“Quite likely given the fact the Muggle hospital at which he was found brought him in at that time. I know that the Ministry will be interested in asking him some questions, but as a Healer, I ask that you take under advisement that the patient in the very least is in shock, but the Muggles were suspecting some kind of social development disorder such as Autism.”

Harry looked at the healer, glaring, wondering why he’d not kept things _that_ simple when talking to him earlier. Kingsley folded his arms. “Can he at this point be released of his own cognizance?”

“Hold on…” Harry’s throat tightened, almost feeling a bit betrayed.

“Don’t worry. As one of the few people who knows exactly what he did, I don’t have any plans of bringing him, particularly when his name was the one name which never came up during the trials during the first war.”

“What do you mean?”

“There aren’t any crimes he can be directly linked to at this point.”

Harry looked at the ground, realizing this might end up being an issue later on. “Well, everyone assumed he was dead.”

“Perhaps, but there is a chance they might have still sold him out.”

Harry shook his head. “I saw Dumbledore’s memory of Igor Karkaroff. When he named Evan Rosier, he was told the name was useless because he was dead.”

“Ah, yes, but Evan Rosier was one of the ones Moody was responsible for killing and we were able to already confirm he was a Death Eater. No, Regulus Black’s name would have been quite powerful in getting off if someone could tie his name to any crimes.”

“Is that why Sirius said he wasn’t significant for Voldemort to kill personally? Why he thought his brother realized it was too much and tried getting out.”

“Well, I never heard Sirius say that myself, but that is quite likely the reason. Back to what I was asking the Head Healer about, it’s more of wanting to ask Regulus some questions and whether he is ready or not.”

“At this point, no, but I’d even argue at this point he’s in need of a legal guardian to handle his affairs, or at least until he’s a bit more stable. Mind taking a seat?”

Kingsley sat down. “That’s a rather odd reason to contact me specifically, to ensure that the Ministry does appoint a guardian.”

“Interim Minister, this has to do with the fact people just don’t come back to life and that’s exactly what just happened, but he’s apparently the same age as when he died.”

“I see.” Kinglsey pushed his mouth together. “You’re worried about the Ministry attempting to remove a patient from St. Mungos and to the Department of Mysteries as his case would fall under their purview.”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned it really isn’t any mystery that Regulus’ showing up alive is directly tied to the defeat of Lord Voldemort. That, and some kind of old magic none of us could have foreseen, and while I’m sure the Unspeakable would love to get their hands on Regulus, he’s to be treated the same as any other person for whom old magic we have no actual honest explanation for would be treated.”

“You mean old magic like my mother sacrificing herself thus resulting in me and the Dursley family becoming protected?”

“Yes,” Kingsley let out a sigh. “That said, there are other things to discuss, such as the fact there is only so long Regulus being alive will remain out of public knowledge let alone the fact the Black family, I do see them becoming involved.”

“You mean the Malfoy’s?” Harry swallowed. “While Narcissa Malfoy doesn’t seem like a completely bad person…”

“I wouldn’t put it past them to challenge my decision to make you Regulus legal guardian, but they would have a legal standing.”

Harry looked up, then at the Healer whose facial features seemed to agree with him. “I’m not the best decision.”

“What do you mean?”

“The patient apparently thought Harry Potter was his father and that his older brother was playing a cruel joke on him. Might I suggest the girl? The one Regulus thinks is related to the Black family?”

“He means Hermione. He thought she was Andromeda or her daughter.”

“Wow.” Kingsley nodded his head as if a thought occurred to him. “Are you saying he’d possibly take kindly to seeing Andromeda?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I don’t see why Hermione can’t act as his legal guardian until Andromeda can be properly informed.”

Harry pushed his lips together. “I think I’d like to do that, and at Grimmauld place as the tapestry shows what I am saying is true, but…” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to completely cut Narcissa off. Andromeda was wanting to reach out to her, to see if Narcissa wanted to meet her grand-nephew, but if she is willing to do that…”

“While it is true that we should restrict what information, we divulge to Regulus Black – it’s been a long time since the end of the previous war, I don’t think completely cutting out his family is a good idea. The only one I’d be concerned with his mother, given the way he reacted whenever he thought he’d done something wrong.”

“I’ve seen her portrait as has Harry, but she and her husband are also gone.”

“Also, I want to be careful in regards to how he learns that certain family members are dead.”

“Would it be possible to move him to a more private place so it is less likely for information to get out?”

“Yes. Right now he’s in the permanent ward because we were originally suspecting spell damage that made him think he was someone he wasn’t along with potential social development issues…”

“That’s the second time you’ve brought that up.”

“The sooner I can speak with someone who knew him from childhood, the better answer I can have regarding that. But yes. We’ll remove him from there and restrict whose allowed to see him as needed. The Hermione girl, whatever her last name is, Mr. Potter and you, the Interim Minster along with the staff.”

“Actually…”

A knock came at the door. The Head Healer let out a sigh. “I’m rather busy at the moment? Is it important?”

“Yes. There’s someone here to see you about the mysterious patient from the permanent ward.” Hearing these words made Harry completely tense up, wondering if somehow one of the Black’s found out. “A mister Longbottom.”

“He’s one of the ones I’d like to be able to visit him, and his grandmother as they’ve already interacted with Regulus. Luna Lovegood as well, and my girlfriend Ginny Weasley, whom you met early.”

“But not the other person?”

“Other person?” Kingsley asked.

“He means Ron. Ron acted like an idiot, so that would probably be best. We’ll expand the list as need be.”

“Alright.” The Head Healer stood, letting Neville in.

“Sorry. Hermione wanted me to pass on a message to you since she promised Regulus she would stay, at least during visiting hours, that he’d bumped the back of his head. She meant to say something, but Ron made her forget. They said I should come and tell you that, since you’re the one Harry is talking to.”

“I’ll see to it that it is taken care of, though you could have let anyone know.” The Head Healer shook his head as the door closed. “Well, I have a patient to see to, to make sure on top of getting him moved to a more private setting that the back of his head is seen to.”

“We’ll take our leave,” Kingsley stood up and Harry followed.

“Thanks.”

“You no need of thanking me. It’s the least I could do.”


End file.
